Chapter 7

7

Clarabelle woke in a strange bed.Feeling faint was the last thing she recalled, which led to her realizing Dracin must have tucked her in to let her sleep off her exhaustion.

She’d overextended herself. Her own fault. After the way she went after those vamps, she should have rested before attempting magic on a shifter. Then again, she’d not expected it to be so intense. The way his body reacted, almost pushing away her magic until the third force appeared. A new kind of magic latching on to her own and taking over when hers wanted to fail.

A slight sound had her holding still. The door to the room opened, and someone entered. She peeked through a slitted lid to see a bare ass not far from the bed, Dracin rummaging in a drawer. She squished her eye shut as he turned, lest he catch her spying.

The door closed, and she heard the muffled sound of water running. He was showering. The nakedness made sense. Kind of. Why strip before grabbing clothes?

She rose from the bed—his she realized, with its plaid comforter and flannel sheets—and stretched. A glance at the clock on the nightstand, with its glowing red numerals, showed she’d slept a good two hours, enough to no longer feel lightheaded. She slipped out of the bedroom and noticed the closed bathroom door. She went past to the kitchen and dug out her phone, trying to arrange a ride back to the city. Not surprising, two a.m. in the boonies meant Uber had nothing available for this area. She grimaced. A taxi wouldn’t be cheap, but she still booked one and agreed to pay a premium for out-of-boundary pickup. She doubted Dracin would want her sticking around. The ornery man’s home screamed bachelor. One fabric recliner. One kitchen chair. He couldn’t have stated he hated company more clearly. It was a wonder he’d had more than a single plate, fork, and knife.

The taxi arrived more quickly than expected, and she glanced at the bathroom door, still closed. She should let him know she was leaving. She’d raised her hand to knock when she heard a noise. Ear pressed to the panel, she heard a low moan.

Was he hurt?

A hand on the knob showed it unlocked, and she opened it enough to glance inside. Then blushed.

He wasn’t injured but jacking off in the shower. His hand rubbing the length of his cock. An impressive cock she noted. Cheeks hot with embarrassment, she shut the door quietly and leaned on it.

The taxi waited outside. Should she hold off her departure until he’d finished?

What if he’d caught her spying?

Rather than face him, she fled.

Cowardly, she knew, and yet something about Dracin discomfited. Made her feel things she didn’t understand. Lust? Since when did a man make her want sex? Sex was usually the end result when she dated someone for a while, not because of need. Yet this man oozed sexuality, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

So she fled. Returned to her hotel room, where she jumped in a shower, soaping herself vigorously as if that would rid her mind of the image burned in it. His powerful body, muscled and thick, slick with moisture, his hand gripping his large shaft, moving up and down.

Who did he think of while he stroked? What did it say that she hoped it was her? Did he think of me while he touched himself? The very thought had her pulsing between the legs. She turned down the heat of her shower and blasted away her lusty thoughts with cold.

Still, the memory of him lingered and followed her to bed. She cast a spell on herself to sleep and woke midmorning refreshed and ready to get to work.

She now had a culprit when it came to the disappearances.

Vampires.

With everything that had transpired, she placed a call to Marjorie.

The coven leader answered. “How’s it going in Ottawa?”

Without any kind of preamble, she stated, “We have a vampire problem.”

A pause on the other end before Marjorie murmured, “Explain.”

So she did, detailing the vamp who’d lured her to the parking garage, the cages, the fact she’d rescued a shifter but all indications pointed to him being one of many.

By the time she finished, Marjorie ranted, “Those fuckers!” It took a lot to get their coven leader swearing.

“We’ll have to report the clan’s crimes to the council.”

“Obviously. Did you keep proof of their actions?”

“No, and I forgot to take pictures.”

“Can you go back to get some?”

Clarabelle grimaced, even though Marjorie couldn’t see. “I burned down the garage as a warning to stop.”

“Unfortunate, but if needed, you can testify under a truth spell. Do you think this will put an end to it?”

“Even if it did, the head of the clan needs to answer for their actions. I’m hoping to track him down today.”

“Alone?” Marjorie exclaimed.

“I’ll ask some of the local coven to join me.” All satellite covens had to provide aid to an attaché witch acting under direct Colony Coven orders.

“As far as I know, given their lack of skill, they’d be more hindrance than help,” Marjorie pointed out.

“Anyone useful close by?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have anyone to send right now. We had a bit of an issue arise in the Midwest.”

“What happened?” Clarabelle asked.

“Ancient burial ground being excavated unearthed an undead surprise. It’s being handled, but that leaves me without anyone to provide backup.”

“Given how I’ve taken out a half-dozen vamps already, I’m sure it won’t be a problem. The clan leader can’t have many left.”

“A vampire who’s selling witches and whatnot won’t hesitate to break the vampires’ laws on creation.” A law that limited the number of vampires allowed per clan based on the population size of the city they lived in. The largest clan in the world only had fifty members because their heavy eating habits, along with their rules on not killing their food, meant they required a rather large stable of blood donors.

“While you raise a valid point that he might have more lackeys than expected, I also don’t recommend we wait too long to act. This Theodore will either relocate or destroy the records.”

“You think you can find some of the victims?” Marjorie’s question was ripe with hopeful curiosity.

“Some of them would have been bought as exhibits. So, yes, I imagine some will be alive.”

“What of this shifter you saved? Think he could call in a few buddies from his pack to act as backup?”

She didn’t get the impression Dracin liked asking anyone for help. Still… “I could ask. He might be willing to help, given what they did to him.”

“Send me a full write-up on everything you found. I’m going to forward it to the Vampire Council to show justification for our actions. It would help if you could get a truth-verified statement from the victim you saved.”

“Are you worried my testimony won’t be enough?” Clarabelle didn’t hide her surprise. While the vampires kept to themselves, they’d long had an understanding that, if not friendly, was amicable.

“I’d prefer if we covered our asses. We don’t know if this operation was limited to Ottawa only.”

“You think another clan might have been helping?”

“We don’t know much at this point, so I’d like to be careful before we accidentally start an all-out war. As it is, they’ll grumble that you killed them without a trial.”

“Firstly, I am highly ranked enough to invoke the Dracula treaty clauses. And second, I had no choice,” Clarabelle huffed. “I am allowed to defend myself.”

“I know that. But let’s ensure we cover all our bases. Get me some irrefutable evidence.”

“And if I am attacked again?”

“Then do what you must. I’ll handle the fallout.”

Clarabelle hung up and gnawed her thumb. Marjorie had made her task more difficult. While the treaty made it clear that any vampire or clan caught breaking the rules could be culled without trial, there had to be just cause. Last night, she could claim self-defense. But if she went hunting down the rest of the clan, especially the leader, then she’d better make damned sure she had some damning evidence before she set him on fire.

She glanced at the time, almost lunch. A good time to go vampire hunting since they’d be hiding from daylight and at their weakest, only she’d promise Marjorie she wouldn’t go alone. A reasonable request seeing as how Marjorie made a good point that this clan hadn’t been shy about breaking laws. Would they have respected the one about size? She couldn’t help but recall the almost feral nature of the ones she’d killed. Vampires that should have been culled for losing their cognizance. Their very existence made it likely they had greater numbers than expected.

Backup would be wise. What she didn’t like? Having to go to Dracin for help. She’d kind of hoped to stay away from him given the confusion he caused within her.

It occurred to her as she dressed she didn’t know how to contact Dracin. They hadn’t exactly exchanged phone numbers or last names. She did have an address though, which led to her searching on the internet to see if she could find anything. She came up empty.

The man lived like a ghost. Nothing showed under his address. The name Dracin didn’t do much good either. A good thing she had friends who could dig deeper. A phone call later and she had a picture of his driver’s license, Dracin Smith. Age thirty-six. Single, which she’d already guessed. With that information, she made a second phone call that resulted in his identification being run against the police database. No infractions came up except for one a few days ago. Vehicle parked longer than allowed on a city street, which led to it being towed.

It gave her an idea.

A few hours later, and several hundred dollars poorer, she drove the old Ford truck to Dracin’s place conscious that night fell, meaning whatever plan she’d put in motion against the vampire clan would have to wait until the next day. Never go into their nest at night when they were strongest.

She rehearsed what she’d say when she saw Dracin.

The Colony Coven for North American witches would like your aid in locating the vampire clan conducting themselves in a way that is against the current treaties forbidding the enslavement of sentient people and creatures. The most professional approach and probably not the best one.

Hey, so want to go vampire hunting? Direct, he’d probably prefer that.

The truth? The boss witch says I can’t confront the vampires by myself and wants me to bring backup.

All of those pretty speeches flew outside her head when she pulled into his driveway to catch him splitting wood, shirt off, muscles gleaming with sweat.

He paused to watch her park, and when she emerged, tingling head to toe and trying to ignore how delicious he looked, she blurted out, “I brought back your truck from the impound.”

To which he drawled, “No shit. What do I owe you?”

“A favor.”

He arched a brow. “Oh? Not sure what I can do for you.”

Her mind had a dirty list, but she stuck to the reason she came. “I need you for something special.”

His lips quirked. “Should I shower first?”

Her cheeks burned with heat as she realized how it might have sounded. “I mean I need your muscle.”

He glanced down at his gleaming torso. “Which one?”

For some reason, she got flustered and blurted out, “All of them. It won’t take long.”

“Well, that’s kind of insulting.”

She could have died, as everything she said kept emerging wrong. “What I mean to say is I need you for backup.”

The smile widened, turning a handsome man into a devasting one. “Did your batteries run out?”

“Would you stop twisting everything I say into something dirty?” she huffed, planting her hands on her hips.

The jerk laughed. “Oh, Belle, if you could see your face. Why don’t we go inside and talk about this help you need over a glass of whiskey?”

She nodded. A shot of something strong might stop her from sounding like a moron.

Or not.

As his ass led the way in snug jeans, she couldn’t help but remember how it looked bare. How he looked masturbating.

How she wanted nothing more than to take him up on his offer of sex.